


Simple, Soft

by stormcity (orphan_account)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Jealousy, Kissing, Love Confessions, Multi, Talon - Freeform, Young Genji Shimada, Young Hanzo Shimada
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 13:57:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13742397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/stormcity
Summary: "Perhaps it's because they've managed to hold to a child-like innocence this long. They haven't murdered anyone. It's what makes cold assassins weak when they smile. You're left stupefied."An air-headed pulse-pistoled field agent who loved people and a faint-hearted, sleep-deprived med student who's heart bled more than what was for his own good.Both adored from the distance, by dehumanized figures weren't quite sure what love was or how it worked, but waded knee-deep in it all the while.





	Simple, Soft

"You love that chronically tarnished lass with the freckles and button nose,"

Golden irises flickered to the geneticist's seat. 

"Oh, don' be so irked," Moira continued. 

Bony fingers tore a packet of honey. Sharp violet nails squeezed the golden syrup into the tea.

"My dear nephew, not a lick of testosterone in 'im. Smart lad, wants to be a doctor like sweet Angela,"

The eyes hadn't left her.

"He was bullied a lot in primary school. Warms my heart that someone with the likes o' you took interest."

Amelie tensed. The perspiration forming at her lower back caused the evening gown to cling cooly. 

"You're mistaking cold patience for sympath—"

Moira palmed the glass table indignantly. The silverware clattered, the teacups trembled. Patrons from the bottom floor blinked upward to their spot by the railing.

"I'd certainly let it slide if y'd hadn't let er' go twice," barked Moira. 

"Twice," she repeated, hissing with a quiet emphasis. 

"Y'dont miss. Ever, as a matter of fact. But I was there. The tip of the rifle was at her bleedin' forehead, but look—," 

Sharp acrylic pointed at the flatscreens hanging over the bar. The news highlighted Numbani's latest happenings, featuring an all familiar blue zip of light blinking through the omnic-torn streets. 

Amelie said nothing, aurelian gaze humbly fixed off to the side. 

"But there's no shame in falling," sighed the geneticist.

"Not sure what the deal is with your type; assassins going soft over wee' lambkins."

Moira raised the cup of tea to her lips, but paused to speak again. 

"Perhaps it's because they've managed to hold to a child-like innocence this long. They haven't murdered anyone. It's what makes cold assassins weak when they smile. You're left stupefied. "

Her lip clasped ahold of the rim and she spoke softly into to the cup.

"It makes you weak," repeated Moira. "Simply because you hope they stay like that farever."


End file.
